by James Webb
There was a very small window when Ruth was the more prominent one in our relationship. We were newly married and she got involved with the worship group at church, while I sat in the pew saying and doing nothing worthy of notice. In those days I was known as ‘Ruth’s husband’. Eventually I began preaching, and even ended up working for the church for a few months, so that was the end of that. Since those days Ruth has mostly been ‘James’ wife’. Read more
It’s a picturesque time of year, as Christmas summons frosted grass and offers a horizon spotted with naked trees. But it’s cold and wet, and that makes it less picturesque. In these conditions, the autumnal waste creates work. Every couple of weeks I have to pull manky, slimy leaves from the drain behind our kitchen or we get an overflow of yucky water outside. There’s no Yuletide cheer in that job, let me tell you. Read more
I cried out to God for help;
I cried out to God to hear me.
Is it possible for God to ever be far from us? Does He ever withdraw Himself? We can debate these questions all day long, but one thing is certain – sometimes it feels like He’s gone away. Read more
It always begins with a lie.
In the garden, the first of us chose to reject the truth, and chose to believe a lie. It broke us, sold us into slavery. Ever since the first, the Father of Lies has been keeping us in our chains by sidling up to us, and in a pleasant tone of voice asking what seems a most reasonable question – “Did God really say…?” Read more
I’m not an adventurous person, but the twists and turns of my life suggest that, for me at least, God implements such things as ‘compulsory adventures’. The problem is that being between adventures leaves me tormented by restlessness. I’m not exaggerating for effect (who me?). ‘Tormented’ is a carefully chosen word. I suspect this is a condition I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my days. It’s difficult. Read more
The soul is like a jar. It’s probably made of clay. God seems to have a thing for clay.
Sometimes you go to someone’s soul jar and it’s empty. You look at the person, and you see the bitterness etched on his face and you roll your eyes. Words spring to mind: small-minded, tiny-hearted, empty soul. No wonder, you think, that this soul jar is empty. He is mean, wicked, horrible and anything poured into that jar would turn into vinegar the moment that it splashed against the sides.
But it doesn’t work like that. The jar is not empty because of bitterness, but rather there is bitterness because the jar is empty.
Let me explain.
I watch a child dancing with breathless joy in the morning, while the world around me shouts “Fire and Fury!” and I think, She doesn’t understand and that’s why she dances. But then God taps me on the shoulder and says, “No, James, she does understand, and that’s why she dances. You may have lost your way for a moment.”
The jar starts full, but a swift kick here and a rough push there and a crack will show, and if we don’t attend to it then the soul starts to leak out. If we don’t watch those chips and fractures then we’ll dry out. It might take years, but it’ll happen.
“And it’s not just your jar, James,” says God. “You know what Fred Craddock says the rule for all big families is, don’t you?”
“Yes, God,” I reply. “The older ones help the younger ones.”
“Good. Now fix your jar, and I can always top it up for you. And when you see someone else in danger of leaking out all over the place, you know what to do, don’t you?”
“Yes, God,” I say. “The older ones help the younger ones.”
How’s your jar?
How about the jars to your left and right?
Don’t just watch the treasure leak out.
If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about spiritual warfare, it’s that Satan is no gentleman. He isn’t one to say, “Hey, James has had a really rough week. Let’s go easy on him for the moment.” Quite the opposite in fact. There may be times where the conflict is more overt, and I am more aware of it, but rarely do the guns actually stop.
As a preacher, I know that the build up to a sermon can be a time of conflict. The act of preparation, with the temptation to take shortcuts or play fast and loose with the truth, feels like a battle. When we’re working towards something specific, we can be conscious of the spiritual struggle, wrestling with motives and prayer, but it’s a mistake to think that after the event there’s a ceasefire. As soon as the seed has landed on the path is the best time for the birds to swoop. The moment the preacher sits down is as good a time as any to push him into pride or drag him into despair.
However, as relentless as the Enemy is, God is even more so. The truth doesn’t ever stop being true. There is not a moment where resisting the devil doesn’t cause him to flee from us. I don’t stop being a child of God because I’ve had a bad week. We are always vulnerable to attack but, equally, the Enemy is always vulnerable to the truth.
I admire Mark for the way that he ended his gospel: “Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.” Read more
“Go away!” squealed the Ghost. “Go away! Can’t you see I want to be left alone?”
“But you need help,” said the Solid One.
“If you have the least trace of decent feeling left,” said the Ghost, “you’ll keep away. I don’t want help. I want to be left alone…”
The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis Read more
God has given me two types of inner fire. Read more
